


Make Like Rabbits

by magisterpavus



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Shapeshifters, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, I guess???, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Overstimulation, Possessive Shiro (Voltron), Rough Sex, Size Kink, Wolf Keith (Voltron), bunny shiro, this is such an absurd fic but fun...blame roe & toy, why isn't this a tag. smh.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-17 02:27:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21046787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magisterpavus/pseuds/magisterpavus
Summary: Bunnies are cute. Everyone knows this.But sometimes appearances can be deceiving.





	Make Like Rabbits

**Author's Note:**

> firstly, I gotta thank roe/[@onomatti](https://twitter.com/onomatti) & toy/ [@eventoysneedluv](https://twitter.com/eventoysneedluv) for the idea for this au and A Particular Scene Where Shiro Grabs Keith's **** that would not leave my LIZARD BRAIN. 
> 
> also, bunwolf aus are great in any form but every time i've ever met a bunny they have struck me as Beasts To Be Feared & Respected. they're also cute and fluffy but i wanted to write about The Duality Of Bun, if you will.
> 
> anyway. here's this mess, lol find me on twitter [@saltyshiro](https://twitter.com/saltyshiro)!

Bunnies are cute. Everyone knows this.

Keith certainly knows it when he peers through the undergrowth, crouched and lying in wait for supper. He doesn’t find it — instead, he finds another hybrid, not a wolf like himself, but a large white rabbit. Keith pauses, shifts back on his haunches to observe the strange creature. He knows some wolves go for hybrid rabbits, though he’s always found the practice questionable. Even disregarding the moral implications, rabbit hybrids are hard to bring down. Keith’s heard plenty of tales about wolves killed by well-aimed rabbit hybrid kicks and bites, so he knows not to be fooled by their appearance.

But this bunny...is cute.

He’s larger than Keith, well-muscled with simple, loose, light clothing embroidered in floral designs that designate him as one of the Meadowfolk, which makes sense. Keith is of the Mountainfolk, technically, but his pack cast him out a year ago and he never liked their dark tunics with bold white collars and cuffs, too stiff and rough to be comfortable. He lives and hunts among the Woodlings now, and they are a scattered bunch with no uniform, which suits Keith just fine. He has his cloak and dagger, and that’s all he needs.

But the longer he watches the hybrid, the more he longs for something else.

Meadowfolk though he may be, the rabbit is alone, hopping almost cautiously around the clearing in the forest and sniffing here and there, his silvery-white hair falling into his bright eyes. His white ears stand upright and alert, swiveling around occasionally, so Keith is careful not to make a sound. He can’t help but stare at the fluffy white tail that peeks out just over the bunny’s waistband, flicked up and alert like his ears. 

Then the bunny turns, and Keith sees his other side. Keith frowns — his right arm is gone. In a battle, perhaps? It’s covered neatly by a sleeve, but Keith’s curiosity is piqued, and he doesn’t realize he’s inching forward until the bunny whirls and stares right at him, brow lowering and body sinking into a defensive crouch. 

Keith has never heard a bunny growl before, and it is more terrifying than it has any right to be. 

Before he can turn tail and run, he notices something else. The bunny — smells. Strange. Not bad, just — odd. Keith freezes in confusion, inhaling the pungent scent for a moment too long as the bunny bursts into motion and barrels into him.

Keith lets out a squeak he isn’t proud of, limbs pinwheeling as he’s shoved into the grass and loamy earth. He stares up at the bunny, whose ears are flicked back, body braced over Keith’s. His eyes are so pretty up close, and his nose is very pink. It’s scarred, too, a thick pink slash over the bridge.

“If you’re looking for dinner,” the bunny snaps, “I suggest you look elsewhere.”

Keith blinks dumbly. His voice is nice, too. “Um,” he whispers. “I — I wasn’t going to eat you.”

“No. You weren’t.” The bunny snorts, jamming a powerful thigh over his hip, and Keith knows it’s meant to hold him down, to give the bunny better leverage when he only has one arm to work with, but instead it makes sick heat pool in his gut. 

Keith’s ears pin back with a soft, pleading whine, but the bunny doesn’t let up. He’s solid. Keith is sweating. He always knew he was a poor excuse for a wolf, but this is really a new low.

“Are _you_ going to eat me?” Keith blurts.

The bunny blinks at him, startled, then seems to actually realize their proximity and leaps away. His expression is almost...embarrassed. “No,” he says, quieter. “Why were you watching me, wolf?”

“Keith,” Keith offers. The bunny looks puzzled. “My name. It’s Keith. What’s yours?”

The bunny’s eyes narrow, but then he pauses, looking Keith up and down, and relaxes slightly. “Shiro. You didn’t answer my question, Keith.”

“You smell funny,” Keith admits, and Shiro blanches, stiffening as Keith takes another tentative step forward. “Why are you so far away from the Meadow?”

Shiro frowns. “I — I was gathering food.”

“Where?” Keith demands, and the bunny’s eyes narrow again. “I don’t see any.”

At first, he thinks Shiro is going to lie again, but then he sighs, a genuine exhaustion in his frame, and mutters, “I have to stay away for a while. The other rabbits in my warren are...well. It’s just best that I stay away until it’s over.”

Keith squints. “Until what —” Then his eyes widen as he pieces it together. “It’s bunny breeding season.” _But when is it not? _he doesn’t say, even if it’s true. Though not quite as prolific as the little bunnies that make tasty snacks, bunny hybrids are in season for half the damn year. 

Shiro huffs, gaze sliding away. “Yes. Until winter, anyway.”

Keith gawks at him, heart pounding. The smell makes sense, now. “So — so what, you just avoid all other bunnies for six months? Why?” He doesn’t admit that he hides during rut season, too — the other wolves are not very friendly to him.

Shiro frowns. “Look at me,” he says. 

“I’m looking,” Keith says, maybe a little too breathy, because Shiro inhales, sharp, and starts forward before pausing, head tilted.

“I would hurt them,” Shiro says slowly, “or they think I would, so they want me to stay away. I’m bigger than most of my kind.”

“Yes,” Keith whispers, “I see that.” He swallows. “But it’s not right for them to cast you out.”

Shiro bites his lip. “I don’t want them to be afraid.”

“Of you?” Keith asks, brows raised. 

“You should go,” Shiro says, strained. “Now.”

“Or what?” Keith takes a step forward. He doesn’t know why, except that the scent is overwhelming, flooding his senses until he’s salivating and feels his hackles rise, his tail lift, his leggings tighten. 

Shiro makes the growling noise again. “Wolf,” he starts. “If you know what’s good for you —”

“Never been very good at figuring that out,” Keith admits, and lunges for him.

He catches Shiro by surprise, knocking the bunny down as Shiro grunts, legs kicking out just as Keith scrambles up to straddle him, pinning him down. Shiro’s broad chest rises and falls rapidly, his pupils so dilated that his irises are almost black. “Get off me, wolf,” he hisses, and pushes at Keith’s chest, but as soon as his palm connects, he makes a strange whimper low in his throat and stills completely.

“I’m not a bunny and I’m not afraid of you,” Keith tells him.

Keith’s never heard a bunny swear before, but Shiro says with feeling,_ “Fuck,”_ and then surges up, knocking Keith off of him and down onto the ground, flat on his belly. Keith struggles, but he doesn’t really want to get away, especially when Shiro’s weight settles over him in full, leaving no chance for escape. Shockingly sharp teeth close on the nape of his neck. “Do you want me to fuck you, wolf?” Shiro whispers. “Fill you up until you’re howling for it?”

Keith growls back at him, panting as a soft hand slips under him, palming over his bare chest until Shiro finds a nipple and pinches hard enough to make Keith yelp. “I’d like to see you try,” Keith retorts, bucking under him. “You’re a big bunny, sure, but wolves are _bigger.”_

Shiro shoves him facedown into the dirt and Keith panics for a moment, nose flooded with the smell of fertile earth as Shiro yanks at his leggings, tearing them right down the middle. Keith yelps again in shock, suddenly exposed, his hips wrenched upwards by the bunny’s sure hand. His waiting hole twitches in the chill air and Shiro’s growling grows louder before he exhales over Keith’s ass, then licks deep into him.

Keith claws at the ground, eyes flying wide in surprise as a hot tongue spears him open, Shiro’s grip on his waist bruising. Keith is sure he smacks Shiro in the face with his tail, but the bunny isn’t complaining. Neither is Keith; his dick is trapped in his ripped leggings, rubbing up against his belly, and he can’t help but rut against the ground, then back onto Shiro’s sloppy tongue. It’s _good,_ so good that Keith is whimpering before too long, squeezing his eyes shut and gasping when globs of spit slide down, drenching his leggings where they’re still stretched tight and torturously confining. 

Keith thinks he might be begging, but he’s forgotten how words work; they catch and choke off into nonsense in his throat as Shiro opens him wider, drooling as much as Keith is. And all around them is that scent, the one Keith couldn’t put his finger on at first but now surrounds him in a miasma of _yespleasemoremoremore. _If he says words, he thinks they must be those ones.

He doesn’t know if Shiro is actually listening or if he’s as desperate as Keith feels, but abruptly the bunny backs off, though not before licking one last time, slow and lingering, and pressing his hand firmly between Keith’s shaking thighs. 

That’s all he gives Keith – a single, teasing touch, just enough to make him whine. As soon as the sound leaves Keith’s lips, Shiro’s hand is gone, and when Keith moves to touch himself, Shiro grabs at where the fabric splits and _yanks_ it upwards, increasing the pressure on Keith’s dick until he stops trying and puts both hands over his head, crossed at the wrists, fingers curling with the almost unbearable urge to get himself off.

He doesn’t expect Shiro to press close along his back in reply to Keith’s submission, nuzzling into the dark mane of hair that turns to shaggy black fur along Keith’s spine and shoulder blades. In fact, it’s so unexpected that Keith tenses, bracing himself for – for _something, _what exactly, he doesn’t know, but he isn’t used to this. 

He would have thought a bunny so feared by his warren that he has to be exiled for the entire season would have cut to the chase by now. He tells Shiro as much, his voice muffled in the dirt, and Shiro falters. Then he growls again, but this time it’s not just a warning sound, it’s also...unhappy. Keith opens his eyes, wondering if he offended, but stops trying to think critically about the situation when fabric rustles behind him and something much hotter than thicker than the bunny’s tongue shoves against his wet hole. 

Shiro ruts against him, once, twice, and on the third time Keith feels the tip of his cock catch on Keith’s hole and then, without further warning, plunge into him. Keith _doesn’t_ howl, but it’s a near thing, and when he manages to blink back tears from his watery eyes, he realizes he’s bitten his own forearm. It’s bleeding. Keith is not ashamed to admit that the scent only makes him harder. 

He doesn’t think Shiro even notices. The bunny has stopped nuzzling, and his fingers dig bruises into Keith’s hip as he drives into him, fucking him nearly in half with the force of each thrust. He _looked_ strong, but feeling that strength like _this_ is far different from admiring from afar. 

Keith knows he’s strong enough, too – he had to be lean and wiry to survive out here on his own – but he feels like putty under Shiro, completely at his mercy. The bunny’s heavy body covers Keith’s all the while, keeping him down, pinned, like he’s afraid Keith will try to get away. 

Keith thinks he would rather die than make this end, honestly. He’s delirious with the sensation of Shiro’s cock inside him, long and tapering at the tip but fat where Keith wants it to be, thick enough that it burns in the best way. It’s also so damn wet, and each time Shiro pulls out only to slam back in, the sound is loud and slick. 

Once, Shiro pulls out all the way and rubs the leaking crown over Keith’s gaping hole as it tries to tighten around nothing. Keith does manage a word then, a single _please, _and Shiro groans and fucks back into him, but not before Keith feels how much his cock is dripping. It makes Keith wonder just how much there will be when Shiro comes.

Speaking of which, Keith is frantic to come. His cock throbs, worse and worse when Shiro angles differently and moves faster, harder, relentless. Every thrust pushes Keith forward a little, and he scrabbles uselessly at the ground even as he arches his back and moans in helpless pleasure, spreading his legs wider until his dick can _almost_ grind against the ground. His leggings are soaked and clinging and worse still, Keith can feel the swelling ache at the base of his cock. He tries to ignore it, tries to lose himself wholly in being thoroughly fucked, but before too long it becomes painful in its intensity and he starts squirming under Shiro with broken-off whines and gasps.

Teeth dig into his neck to keep him still but Keith pushes back against Shiro, squirming in earnest, finally finding his voice and croaking, “Sh – iro, please, I need –”

“Shut up,” Shiro groans, but there’s no venom in it, and the next second his rhythm falters and he’s coming, pumping Keith full of sticky heat. It only makes Keith whine louder, shifting around in discomfort even as bliss sparks up his spine. The bunny shudders over him, but he doesn’t pull out, doesn’t move away, and then his hand is sliding into Keith’s leggings to wrap around his cock – no. His knot. 

Keith does howl then, the sound punched out of him, choking on moans when Shiro doesn’t stroke, doesn’t tease, just closes his fingers in a tight ring around the very base of Keith’s cock and squeezes. Keith spasms, spine buckling and hips rolling uselessly – Shiro isn’t letting him move an inch, and to his disbelief, Shiro’s cock is hardening again, stretching him wide even as cum oozes out from his used hole around it. Shiro chuckles above him, then grabs Keith’s limp tail and pulls him backwards, impaling Keith on the entirety of his cock as Keith shouts a strangled rendition of his name. “Not until you’re full, sweetheart,” Shiro coos, and starts moving again.

Keith crumples in obedient despair, his cock dribbling over Shiro’s knuckles, and his ragged howls peter out into longing sobs as Shiro keeps him on an endless edge, a rising and falling wave of pleasure that leaves Keith feeling raw and trembling, more so each time Shiro buries his cock deep and comes, filling Keith again and again. 

His thighs are dripping and his leggings are ruined and he’s dizzy with want, no, _need_...for what, he isn’t sure. More of Shiro, he thinks, wrapped around him warm and anchoring, kissing and licking and nuzzling at Keith in the rare moments of rest. Keith can’t remember ever being this close to someone. He’s been fucked, but not like this. This isn’t just surpassing those previous times, it’s obliterating them. They’re no longer relevant. There’s only Shiro, fucking him into incoherency. Keith has no problems with that, except that his cock feels like it might burst.

His noises are soft and plaintive by the time Shiro comes for the last time, and Keith’s entire body is pliant except where it isn’t, where he’s strung tight and trembling, where Shiro’s fingers squeeze ever tighter around Keith’s knot. His cock is slippery with neediness. Keith has destroyed the earth around them with his claws, uprooting grass and wildflowers and stones and barely aware of any of it. There’s a line of blood running down his chin from where he bit his lip.

Shiro doesn’t pull out, and Keith closes his eyes in defeat, resigned to never coming again. Then Shiro kisses his bitten neck, loosens the circle of his fingers, and murmurs, “Come for me.”

He barely gets a single stroke in before Keith is coming, too tired to even howl, the noise more of a crooning whimper as his cock spills over Shiro’s hand, which strokes and squeezes him through it, milking his cock as his knot swells and locks in the secure grip of Shiro’s fist. Keith shakes almost violently, beyond overwhelmed, his ears pressed flat against his skull and tail curling between his legs, gasping as tingling warmth shudders through him over and over, everywhere, more intense than he’s ever felt it. He doesn’t know how long he comes for, but it’s a long time.

When Shiro releases him, Keith collapses, breathing shallowly, eyelids heavy and body sore with strain in a way he craves, because he can still feel where Shiro filled him, even after he’s gone. At the thought, he shivers, curling in on himself. He doesn’t want Shiro to leave, but why would the bunny care what he wanted when he’s just a means – an unconventional and hardly ideal means, at that – to an end?

Something soft brushes against him. One of Shiro’s ears, drooping down as Shiro leans over him and makes a soft, unhappy noise, a tiny and distressed squeak. He noses at Keith’s jaw and chin, then touches the bloodied bite marks on his arm and makes the sound again. “You’re hurt,” Shiro whispers, and he sounds...upset. “I’m sorry, Keith. I thought I could – I thought maybe they were wrong about me, but...” He trails off.

Keith’s eyes blink blearily open. “Huh?”

Shiro looks distraught, then frowns, furrows his brow, and sets his jaw. Keith braces himself for round...what, ten, maybe? but Shiro doesn’t open him with his tongue or cock. Instead, he wraps his arm around Keith and hauls him up, staggering to his feet and holding Keith close. Keith’s cheek rests on his shoulder and he stares in confusion at the blurry trees, utterly disoriented. “Wha – ?”

Shiro rubs his back. “Shh,” he murmurs, and nuzzles into Keith’s fur before walking into the woods with him. “Where’s your den?”

Keith tenses. “I – ” His den is small and unimportant, and Keith doesn’t like to feel shame because he’s been shamed so many times it feels redundant, but he isn’t proud of the place he’s been forced to call home.

Shiro pauses. “It’s okay,” he sighs. “I can just follow your scent.” 

Keith tries to lift his head, but it’s too heavy. “You...know my scent?” he mumbles into soft white fluff. “Wow.”

Shiro doesn’t say anything, but holds him tighter.

Keith drifts off somewhere along the way, and when he opens his eyes again he’s been cleaned up, his arm is bandaged, and he’s snuggled in a nest much softer than the one he made for himself. It’s also much warmer, because there’s someone else snuggled against him. Keith is enveloped in Shiro’s purring embrace, his face smushed into the bunny’s chest, which is the opposite of a problem, but –

“You’re still here,” Keith slurs, and the purring stops.

Shiro pulls away a little and peers down at him. He’s frowning, that sadness in his eyes again. “Oh,” he says. “Did...did you want me to leave? I…”

“No!” Keith almost yells, and the bunny flinches back. Keith cringes at himself. “I mean, um, no, please don’t – I don’t want you to leave, I just thought...you were done. Um.” He ducks his head.

Shiro exhales. “I don’t have anywhere to go,” he admits quietly. “I can’t go home to the Meadow, they won’t let me until –”

“That’s not your home, if they treat you like that,” Keith snaps, and Shiro flinches again, arm falling away from Keith, limp at his side. Bare-chested, Keith can see his right shoulder and its silvery lines of scar tissue. At first, he thought a wolf might have taken the arm, but now he wonders if it was another rabbit. “Sorry,” Keith adds, softer. “But you shouldn’t put up with it.”

Shiro looks away. “Bunnies can’t be alone,” he whispers. “There’s no such thing as a lone rabbit, Keith.”

Keith chews his lip where the cut is still tender. “You’re lonely,” he says.

Shiro winces, but doesn’t deny it. “And horny,” he says. “A bad combination.”

Keith snorts, and slowly, Shiro starts to smile. He has a cute smile. As cute as the rest of him. “For what it’s worth, I think your warren is missing out,” Keith tells him archly. Shiro’s eyes widen. “Cowards. But their loss is my gain.”

Shiro stutters out a reply as Keith wraps his arms around Shiro and snuggles back up to him. “Y-you – I mean, ah – you actually – liked it?”

Keith huffs and glares up at him. “Would’ve been nice to come sooner.” Shiro is about to actually _apologize, _Keith can see it in his eyes. “Hmph. Of course I liked it. You’re amazing. I’m gonna have to sleep for a week, but yes.”

Shiro’s lower lip trembles. “Oh,” he whispers. “But I thought I – I didn’t hurt you?”

Keith shrugs. “I’m sore, but that happens.” He licks Shiro’s nipple, just because he can, and has the delight of hearing the bunny squeak again. “Wolves are tough. And you were…” He hesitates. “You were nicer.”

Shiro opens his mouth, then closes it. “But I told you to shut up and fucked you until you almost passed out –!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Keith sighs. “I don’t know. It was different. You’re different. I wanted you to stay, after. I was –” He presses closer. “I was _afraid_ you would leave afterwards. That’s never happened before.”

“I won’t leave,” Shiro replies immediately, then adds sheepishly, “unless you change your mind. Of course. I would never – overstay my welcome.”

Keith looks up at him. “You’re cute,” he says. He doesn’t mean to; it just slips out.

Shiro turns pink. _“Cute?!_ I –” He glances down, shy, and rubs at the scar over his nose. “Nobody’s ever called me that before.”

Keith eyes him closer. “The rabbits in your warren,” he murmurs, “you’ve never actually fucked them, have you?” Shiro’s pink face turns red. “Was I the first…?”

Shiro gives him a small nod. “Yes.” He adds, quieter, “And I’m glad you were.”

Keith doesn’t mean to smile, but he does. “Oh,” he says, pleasantly surprised and strangely flattered. “You’re _good_ at it,” he adds.

Shiro turns somehow redder. “I – that’s – thank you?”

“No, thank _you.”_ Keith shakes his head and in doing so notices his surroundings. It’s his den, but it’s nicer. There are sprigs of wildflowers tucked into the nest of featherdown and fresh grass, and...Keith stares. “Did you catch a_ rabbit _for me?” he says, strangled. It’s a regular old cottontail, but still. 

Shiro scratches his head and coughs. “Um,” he says. “Yes? Wolves like rabbits. Right?”

“Wow,” Keith says, impressed despite himself. “You really did that. That’s...messed up. I think. But...it also smells delicious.”

“So do you,” Shiro murmurs, leaning in to mouth at his neck. “I can catch more bunnies, as many as you like. You’re going to need them, wolf.”

He kisses Keith hot but gentle enough that Keith melts against him before remembering how Shiro’s tight fist felt and rolling them over, bracing himself over the surprised bunny with a wicked grin, all sharp teeth. 

“I’ve already caught the only bunny I need,” Keith replies, and kisses Shiro soundly until the sweet scent of their want fills their den over and over again.


End file.
